The Girl Who Wasn't There
by TheCatalystx
Summary: Brittany Mathers is the self-proclaimed number one Walking Dead Fan. She owns every comic, movie, and game. She religiously tunes into every new episode on AMC. But she could never imagine what it would really be like to live in the world of the walking dead... until now.
1. Chapter 1

Tree branches billow past, reaching out like arms with claws at the end, grabbing at him with sharp points, grasping at his shirt and ripping it.

He has forgotten to try and muffle his movements as he sprints through the forest - as he flees for his life. No – it's more than that. He's more than forgotten – he's not even _trying _anymore. It's against everything he's ever done in his entire life. He is a hunter; he is the unseen; he is the wind that rustles the leaves but leaves no trail.

He is not this bumbling idiot crashing through the forest, boots cracking every twig in its wake, shirt snagging every branch along the way. You could hear him from a mile away.

No, this is not Daryl Dixon.

This is a man running for his life.

An entire hoard of walkers is surging toward him from behind. They move like a wave in slow motion, like a room that's flooding sluggishly. Growing; expanding; inching forward with one ultimate goal in sight. Move, and conquer. Except, this wave has a more sinister drive. Among the thoughtless instincts lay an insidious intention: Feed. And Daryl Dixon is the entrée.

He feels, in this moment, very much like the carrot dangling from the end of a stick that's held in front of the donkey. He can only keep moving, because if that donkey gets ahold of the carrot…

Let's take a step back. How did he get in this position? How did the infamous Daryl Dixon find himself in such a compromising situation? Well, for starters, Judith needed formula. And Daryl just _had _to volunteer.

He's gone soft. Ever since that little girl went and got herself lost in the woods, he's become softer than feather fletching. Admittedly, Sophia's situation struck a chord deep within the man. He knows what it feels like to be lost in the woods. He knows how terrifying that is, even _without _the demonic undead chasing after you. There was really only ever one option for him. It was as simple as breathing: he knew he'd have to try as hard as he could to find her.

Well, that's how it had started. And it hadn't gone unnoticed by the group. Daryl could see it in T-Dog's eyes when he brought Sophia's doll back to him. He could read it from the tray of food that Carol had brought to him when he was injured. He even saw it in the way that little Carl stood a little straighter when he came near, as if being in the presence of some kind of hero.

He had never been anyone's hero before.

And so, after Laurie died, and the baby's cries echoed through the walls of the prison, something became apparent to those who weren't blinded by grief. It had actually been Daryl whom had addressed the elephant in the room.

And he had stated it so eloquently. As Beth cradled the small infant in her arms, Daryl had approached the crowd gathered around her and simply stated this: "Lil' Ass Kicker ain't got teeth."

Oh, how everyone had gawked at him. Beth had started to make an amused comment along the lines of _yes_; Judith had no teeth, and prepared to launch into a drawn-out explanation of human infants and their quirks. Like how to work a diaper, the fact that the head should be cradled, and their notoriously short sleeping periods.

But Daryl barreled right over her and elaborated his comment. He meant that she had no teeth, and would therefore need formula. And now that she brought it up, diapers, too. Beth had turned an alarming shade of red, and the group had started discussing who would be going to scavenge for the formula.

In the end, Maggie had insisted to come along. Everyone else was needed to stay behind for one reason or another, and truth be told Daryl didn't mind Maggie. He found that she had a good head on her shoulders and kept Glenn in line. When had he stopped calling Glenn Chinaman?... Never mind that.

Daryl had a pretty good idea why Maggie was so persistent about going with him, but they hadn't felt the need to justify their actions to each other.

Finding a place with formula had proved a daunting task. There were several stores that Daryl had suggested, all of which Maggie refuted. More often than not she admitted it was because she had already scoped these places out beforehand, upon Laurie's request.

They struck gold with an elementary school that doubled as a daycare center. Actually, Daryl had very nearly blown past the place on his motorcycle, but Maggie tapped his shoulder and nodded to the deteriorating sign.

At first, there had been a few walkers that the pair had needed to pick off, but overall it was surprisingly barren, given the size of the place. So they delved deeper, all the while keeping their eyes open for a nursery. They located it quickly enough, and in no time at all they left with their bag nearly spilling over with disposable bottles and formula.

That's when the successful trip took an ominous turn. Daryl had located a side exit while Maggie stuffed the bag with their finds, and together, they decided to do one final sweep of the nursery before taking the shortcut.

Oh, how foolish they had been.

Daryl and Maggie exited the nursery. He led her towards the side exit, head darting back and forth as he checked behind them down the long, dark corridor. An unspoken dread had settled on both of them, mostly because it was too easy. The whole thing had been way too easy, especially for Daryl, and he wasn't surprised to find a few stray walkers shoot out from the darkness behind them.

After that he felt a bit more satisfied. It seemed a bit more balanced now; peril had snuck up behind them, and that's what the norm is these days. So when Maggie took the lead through the side door, he didn't give it a second thought. What's the difference who leads the way out at this point? He's right behind her; he's got her back.

The doors of the side exit were large, windowless, and were equipped with bars to push instead of a handle. They were heavy-duty steel, and the sheer size of them should have clued them in on the fact that maybe the doors didn't lead outside. Maybe it had opened to another hallway, or a playground, or in this case – a cafeteria.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The doors swung open and right away, the smell hit them like a tidal wave. Death, plain and simple. It was enough to curl the hair on your arms, wilt any sort of vegetation. It reeked. The smell wasn't just an effect of death, it was enough to _kill_. And isn't that ironic?

Maggie had stumbled back, throwing her hands to her face so she could clamp them over her nose. Tears sprang to her eyes as the scent permeated the air, and even Daryl had turned away for a moment.

They had been caught off guard. Foolishly, they had assumed those few walkers that surprised them in the dark was all there was. Perhaps the prison had spoiled them. Perhaps the thought of returning back to feed the infant distracted them. Perhaps their lack of recent exposure to this world dulled their vigilance, but whatever the case, there was a massive crowd of walkers in that cafeteria. And they had just opened the cage door.

Long story short, Daryl was out of arrows, Maggie had been separated from him, and he found himself sprinting through the woods. The hoard of walkers had thinned, but there were still 50 or so stumbling after him. It was an unsettling mixture of children and adults. If he had had the time, Daryl would've mused that perhaps the elementary had been set up as a temporary-makeshift refugee center.

But he didn't have the time. All he knew was that he was out of ammo, out of breath, and out of luck.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, but he knew he was far enough along to make turning back for his motorcycle no longer an option. The forest was growing thicker with each twig that snapped under his feet.

He had lost his poncho somewhere along the way. His arms were covered with little scratches from tree branches. His mouth was so dry, his tongue felt like a lump of cotton. His lungs burned like you would not believe, and he had lost feeling in his thighs, which quivered like jello with every step.

But the herd was still giving chase.

And he was still alive.

So he ran.

And then, he tripped.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He tripped over a root, bit down on his tongue as his jaw collided with the Earth, and didn't stop there. He tumbled down a steep drop. His limbs were a jumble, legs over arms, shoulders touching knees, hands grabbing onto tufts of mud and dry leaves as he struggled to find purchase on the ravine.

He rolled to a stop at the end, and the ends of his fingers were tickled by something wet. Hot, liquid iron flooded his mouth. Disoriented, he groaned and tried to sit up. The world was spinning around him like a top. A bone in his ankle felt… wrong. Adrenaline hazed over the pain, so he didn't know if it was broken, but he knew that it probably wasn't meant to be sticking at that angle.

He huffed and tried to find some air. The wind had been knocked out of him, and he lay on the ground, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. He looked up at the sky, its serene azure a stark contrast to what was happening down here on Earth, and the trees were still spinning in his vision. Black dots joined the leaves and danced around in the wind, and he struggled to stay conscious.

Something tugged at his boot. He let out a strangled yowl, sounding vaguely like a wounded cat, and shot up from the ground. He almost fell back down, but by some miracle he managed to balance on one leg and kick his way back from the walker that grasped at his injured ankle. He growled low in his throat, desperately backing away.

He found that the liquid that had tickled his fingers belonged to a river. He was now scrambling into it, and the water splashed around him like a living thing. He paid it no mind, labeling it the lesser of two evils, as he sought refuge from the straggly walker. It found its feet and waded sloppily in the ankle-deep water after him.

The water had reached Daryl's chest as he crawled away, but he didn't dare stop. The water was up to the walker's calves, but it was standing and that gave it the distinct advantage, and it was too close for comfort to Daryl. He picked anything he could up from the bottom of the river. Rocks, twigs, and mossy leaves were slapped onto the walker's face. It stumbled for a moment when a particularly sticky handful of leaves latched onto its eyes.

Daryl took that as his chance and pulled himself onto his feet, screaming a little when he put weight on his ankle. All he knew was that he needed _distance _between himself and that walker, and scrambling like a crying schoolgirl wasn't doin' it. His crossbow was lying on the bank, mud, leaves, and twigs caked onto it. He was nearly weaponless. For a moment he actually thought he was, and then he remembered the knife on his belt.

He tugged it free and when the walker was close enough, he stabbed it into its head. The walker fell with a mighty splash, and Daryl almost sagged down into the water with it in relief.

As it was, he swayed on his feet and nearly _did _fall in after it. But he managed to stay upright long enough to wade out of the river and back onto the bank.

His butt slapped the wet mud as he collapsed next to his crossbow. He was heaving shaky breaths as the adrenaline wore off, unable to think of anything but the pain in his ankle and his brush with death.

But Daryl Dixon is a hunter. He is resourceful, and he is strong, and he is selfless, and he is a survivor. He is quite possibly the luckiest bastard alive, and mused this to himself as he dragged his injured ankle closer to his hands.

He thought of how Merle cut off his hand on that roof to survive. Surviving is in his blood. It's been pounded into him from day one, and right now, while he's on his last leg, it's all he's got. And he's not about to stop.

Just as he leaned forward to yank up the leg of his pants and get a better look at his ankle, something latched onto his shoulder.

He screamed, swatting at the new pain. It was too much, he very nearly fainted right then and there, but his fists connected with flesh, and as soon as they did he realized his mistake.

In his haste to escape that other walker, he had forgotten about the hoard that chased him. Now, the few who had tumbled down after him had found their way to him. And they were converging on him, and he was buried under them.

He remembered one last thing before the blackness took him.

He was _alone_.

* * *

Brittany Mathers let out a scream of frustration. She slammed her buzzing controller down, kicking over her glass of cream soda in the process.

The screen of her TV flashed red, and the camera zoomed away from Daryl Dixon in a blurred, crimson-tinged haze. It flashed and taunted her for her failure, and she took a look at her soaked carpet before deciding it was time to take a break.

"Stupid game," She muttered under her breath as she stormed into the kitchen to grab a roll of paper towels. "Not as good as the comics, anyway."

As she began to blot up the cream soda from her carpet, The Walking Dead theme song blared from the speakers of her phone. She sighed and wobbled over to it on her knees. Her hand plunged into the seat of her gaming chair, digging around for her phone that had been buried in its cushions.

She let out an exasperated sigh as she finally yanked it free. She answered it, and before she had the chance to say anything, a familiar voice cackled out, "Save me."

Heaving an annoyed grunt, Brittany wobbled back over to the mess. She tore off another paper towel. "What?" She muttered into the phone.

She pressed the paper towel to the carpet and waited as it sucked up the mess.

"If I have to do any more of these taxes, I'm killing myself. My eyes are about to fall out as it is." Her best friend dramatically declared. In spite of herself, Brittany cracked a grin. "Save me." She added.

"What did you have in mind?"

"The new Walking Dead game is out at Best Buy. I've heard it's to die for." She let out an amused snort at her pun, and Brittany rolled her eyes. "Let's buy it, then hole ourselves up in your house for the rest of our lives."

Brittany bit her lip. "Oh, I might have heard something about that." Her eyes flickered to the screen that was still blinking at the scene of Daryl's death.

Amy, her best friend, paused. "You _bitch."_

Brittany bit back an amused snort. "What?"

"You've been holding out on me!"

"I've done nothing of the sort," She smirked.

"That's it! We're through," Amy continued dramatically. Sounds of something smacking a surface cackled over the speaker. "I can't take this anymore! You never share anything with me. This relationship has always been one-sided; my mother was right!"

Brittany crumpled up a paper towel and let out a laugh, the tension from before leaving her body.

"Admit it." Amy pressed. "You hate me."

"Oh, shut up. I've got cream soda and cookie dough ice cream."

"…What level are you on?"

Brittany scowled, looking back at the screen with her lip snarled up. "Three. I keep killing Daryl."

"I was always better with the crossbow." Amy sniffed.

Brittany huffed, frowning. "No, you can't use it – you know what. I'm not saying anything else. You'll see, just get over here."

"No. I want my own copy. They're also selling t-shirts. I've had my eye on that Glenn one." Brittany could hear her smirk through the phone. "Love me some Pizza Boy…Meet me at Best Buy."

Brittany dramatically groaned, as if it was some huge inconvenience. "Alright, I _suppose._" She conceded.

* * *

Half an hour later, Brittany and Amy were standing outside the Best Buy. They were both gawking at the sheer mass of people inside.

"I don't understand." Amy said. She ran a hand through her bright red hair. "I thought you said you'd already been here to buy it?"

Brittany shook her head, her eyes never leaving the giant line that spilled out to the parking lot. "I _did._"

"So what's all this?! You could have mentioned it!" She gestured wildly to the line, and Brittany tore her eyes away for the first time since stepping foot in the parking lot to look at her friend.

"I don't know," She honestly admitted. "It was crowded, but… not like _this._ And I was at the midnight release."

Amy's head whipped around, her eyes throwing accusatory daggers through Brittany's skull.

Brittany winced. "Ah," She guiltily started, but Amy interrupted.

"You _what_?"

"I'm sorry, okay! But you were on your date."

"No I wasn't! The guy was a total sleaze; I was home by eight." Amy let out her own wince, and Brittany's eyebrows shot up.

"News to me! See, we're all guilty here."

"Alright, alright." Amy conceded. "Let's just get in line."

"This conversation isn't over," Brittany waggled her finger in Amy's face. She was dying to hear more about the supposed-disaster-date, but dropped the subject for the moment.

Amy rolled her eyes and they stepped into line.

* * *

After an hour of standing in line, they finally reached the front doors. Amy was excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet, pushing on Brittany's shoulder as she tried to see over the crowd of people.

"We're almost there, we're almost there, we're almost thereeee!" She sang, clapping her hands together.

"You know, I _do _have the game at home…" Brittany tried for the sixth time.

"Up-up-up!" Amy's hand shot up in a silencing motion. Brittany's mouth clenched shut. "I don't want to hear it, traitor. I am _well_ aware that you _already _have the game."

The line moved forward, far enough that they were allowed in the store, and neither were prepared for what they saw when they stepped in.

The right half of Best Buy had basically been turned into a Walking-Dead-fan _heaven_. "Zombies" who looked like they had just stepped off the set were dotted throughout the Walking Dead section, stationed at various locations. They almost seemed like _party_ _balloons_, if one was being honest, and it didn't stop there.

There were several tables set up. The tables had obviously once been neatly stacked, but in customers' scramble to pick out the best stuff, it had all been mixed together and disheveled. Stacks of the basic DVDs of seasons one through three were all mixed together, a few had even fallen to the floor. It looked like a mountain of plastic squares.

Past the initial few tables, which had been filled with the same DVDs, the crowd grew thicker.

Brittany and Amy floated forward in a daze. "Special Edition, Deluxe Edition, _Limited Edition_ – I missed _this?" _Amy said slowly in awe.

Brittany raised her eyebrow. "Me, too." She said dryly.

"_Brittany_, there!" Amy cried, shoving past Brittany and nearly climbing over her in her haste to reach the bin next to Brittany.

Brittany let out an indignant _ow,_ and harrumphed as she rubbed her shoulder where Amy had clipped her. "Geeze. Could've just _asked_."

Amy paid her no mind as she pawed through the massive pile of games. A few moments passed, and she had actually worked up a sweat. Brittany grew bored and started to curiously peer around. Before she could really look at anything, Amy let out a small, "Whoa," And grew very still.

Brittany looked back and interestedly stood on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of what Amy was gawking at.

Sitting in front of her, perched on the top of the pile she had dug through, was the new game that Brittany had bought, complete with a Game of the Year addition, and also the Survival Instinct. It was the Holy-Grail of all game packs, and they were staring at it right in front of them.

"Whoa." Brittany breathed, echoing Amy's earlier comment.

"Yeah."

Amy picked it up carefully, cradling it to her chest like a newborn infant. Brittany smirked at her and congratulated her best friend, although she was admittedly a _teensy _bit jealous. Just a little though.

"Come on," Brittany said, tugging at the sleeve of her best friend. She had been meaning to get a season three DVD. She had already gotten the first two, because those were her favorite, but it was really time to complete the package.

"Sure," Amy said, New-Game-Bliss clouding her face. Brittany pressed her lips together and led the way.

As they approached, something caught her eye. Brittany came to a stop and her jaw fell to the floor. Then, quick as lightening, she dropped her friend's sleeve and bolted towards the shelf.

She came to a stop and gawked at the DVD case on the shelf. "Ames, would you _look_ at this!?" She cried, snatching up the box. It was a Limited Edition Season 3 DVD box – but unlike any other she had seen. It was a miniature replica of the Governor's tank of walker heads, complete with water and lights. She picked up the example display and turned it over in her fingers, gaping at how the DVD was housed.

"That's it." Brittany declared, still in awe. Amy had her eyebrows raised, her game pack clutched to her chest as she leaned closer in interest. "I have to have it."

"It'll look sweet next to your Screwdriver Zombie." Amy mused quietly to herself. "Damn." She whispered. "I might be a little bit jealous right now."

Brittany smirked. "I told you the Screwdriver Zombie would pay off."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You've still got a little drool on your chin from when you saw my game pack."

Brittany scoffed, and subtly wiped at her chin when she thought Amy wasn't looking. Finally, she picked up the glorious Limited Edition Season 3 DVD, and now that they were both satisfied, they took the moment to stroll through the rest of the displays.

Fifteen minutes later, Brittany had two new boxes in her arms and Amy had four more t-shirts in hers.

"We should probably go, before I see anything else that I need to buy." Amy grinned, and Brittany laughed back.

"Yeah, this was probably a mistake. I'm walking out of her at least 150 dollars lighter. I don't think my wallet can take –" she broke off, because at that exact moment, the crowd that had been gathered around something in the deepest part of the store had parted in just such a way as to allow Brittany to see what all the fuss was about.

She fumbled to keep ahold of her boxes. In her haste, she nearly knocked the game pack from Amy's hands.

"Hey!" Amy started, and Brittany lurched closer to her friend.

"Amy, look – look right now," She hissed furiously, smacking her best friend in the ribs with one of her boxes. Amy bit back her comment and followed her friend's gaze, and then they were both gaping. "Oh my – Amy, what's happening?"

Amy's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "I – I don't – I mean, it's not… that can't be." Both girls paused, looking at each other. "Right? It can't be."

They looked back, going quiet. A laugh filtered out from the crowd, and was soon echoed by others. "But it is." They said quietly, inching forward. The crowd parted again, and they caught another glimpse.

It was like a switch was flipped then. Both girls scrambled forward, and Brittany almost dropped her boxes at least three times. Together they pushed through the crowd, until at last they stumbled forward.

There, sitting at the table, was Robert Kirkman.

He was signing a guy's comic book, grinning and laughing at something he said. They seemed engrossed in the conversation.

"I can't believe this," Amy said, and Brittany never tore her eyes away from the scene.

"I know." Brittany breathed. "Hey," She frowned. "I don't recognize that comic."

Amy perked up, standing on her tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse.

"It's there, too," Brittany supplied, gesturing to the stacks of comic books next to him.

Amy squinted at it and tilted her head. "Huh. Maybe a closer look…" They stumbled forward, dodging limbs and people, until they reached the stack. She plucked one up and held it up for Brittany to see, too.

"This is too weird." Brittany said. "It's a Special Edition. But set earlier… like, first volume early. That doesn't make any sense."

Amy raised her eyebrow and shook her head. "Yeah, I don't know. I have both Compendium Editions, Brit, and this is a completely different design. Do you think he wrote a new … version? Or revised it?"

"He released an earlier version of it." Chirped a girl with a bouncy pony-tail and glasses that glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights. Her nose was too small for her face, vaguely casting the impression of Cindy-Lou-Who, and her teeth were too big for her mouth. "Apparently, he had an alternate version all along and just now decided to release it. Like, he's been holding out on us. Ugh!"

Amy and Brittany frowned at each other, processing the news. "Wha-but… that doesn't make sense."

"Well, I don't know all the details, but apparently this one didn't make the cut. Like, he had a version that he was collaborating on with the other writers, and then his own version, too. When it was made into a show, it was just easier to go with the one we all know and love. He never even had his own published. This is the first time it's seen the light of day." The girl clicked her tongue. "Of course, he _would _wait until season _four _to release it… I can hardly wait to get home and read it. Look!"

She jumped forward, shoving her way between the friends. They looked at each other, disgruntled, but pressed their lips together anyway. She held up one of the alternate-comics; apparently she had already purchased it and torn the plastic off. She flipped it open to a random page, where a girl could be seen leaning casually against a wall next to Daryl Dixon, standing outside a guard tower at the prison. She held a gun in her hand and they seemed to be discussing something.

"This is a whole new character and everything! She was there the entire time; it's like a big section of the show was missing. A whole _chapter_ that no one knew about… until now." She chattered on, flipping through the pages too quickly for any real impression to be given of the new character.

Amy and Brittany exchanged alarmed glances.

"Wow," The girl suddenly breathed. She looked up at Brittany with a frown. "She sort of looks like you…"

Brittany blinked and took a closer look. Sure enough, the girl had a similar build and height, and even mirrored her same unruly blonde curls.

"Scratch that." The girl shook her head. "She looks _a lot _like you. Yeah, those are definitely your man shoulders. And your thunder thighs." She paused, and then looked up excitedly at Brittany, who was vaguely offended. "You should totally meet Robert! It'll _totally _freak him out!"

"Totally," Amy quipped, earning a sneer from the girl. But Brittany paid no mind; she was too busy gawking at her doppelganger in the comic.

"Weird," She breathed, reaching forward to touch the comic.

"Hey!" The girl with the bouncy ponytail whined. "Watch the merch," She sneered, snatching her comic out from under Brittany's shaking hand.

Brittany shook her head, blinking.

_Jeeze, talk about an overreaction_. And she wasn't sure whether that thought was referring to herself, or the teenager.

Amy shot her a quizzical look, but before any more could be said between the friends, the ponytailed-adolescent latched onto Brittany's wrist and tugged her forward.

"Excuse me, coming through, _move_!" She yapped, shoving people aside and dragging Brittany along roughly.

Brittany resisted the urge to yank her hand from the ostentatious teenager and smack her, opting to instead pass her boxes into the waiting arms of Amy.

"Mr. Kirkman!" The teenaged child hollered, standing on her tiptoes and waving her hand to get his attention. She bobbed on her heels to be seen over the heads of other fans. "Mr. Kirkman, it's me! Melody!"

Ah, so the snarky bitch has a name. Brittany rolled her eyes and shot Amy a look, but before she could surreptitiously comment about Melody's vain disposition, she found herself being tugged forward for the zillionth time that night.

Brittany winced as Melody literally shoved a child to the floor and raced to fill his spot. She whirled around on her heels, frantically waving for Brittany to join her and barely pausing long enough to see her do it before waving her hands like a maniac again.

"Mr. Kirkman! Mr. Kirkman, look who I found!" Melody hollered at an unnecessary volume. She frowned and glanced at Brittany. "I don't think he can hear me, hold on, I'm gonna try to get closer."

Brittany cringed, as Melody was basically already on top of the table that the comic book author was signing at, and he was undoubtedly ignoring her.

She leaned across the table, reaching over other fan's arms and tapping on Mr. Kirkman's shoulder.

"Mister Kirkman." She bellowed. "I'm back, it's me, Melody Keller! Remember? You told me that you'd name a character after me!"

Robert Kirkman winced, sliding a comic back across to a sympathetic fan and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and turned to look directly at Melody.

"Yes, Melody." He said, both his face and his voice tight. "I remember. What is it now?"

Brittany grimaced at his clear annoyance, simultaneously sympathetic for the comic book author, and also the teenager.

"I've totally found the perfect person to star as your new character. Look!" She beamed, smug and gesturing to Brittany like a trophy.

Robert closed his eyes and sighed, murmuring to himself and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Melody." He said tiredly, and Brittany had half a mind to sink back into the crowd. Alas, the death grip that Melody's pointy little talons had in her arm would never allow that. "We've been through this. The comic is never going to be adapted for film; I've released it as a personal favor, so we won't need _any _actresses – be it you or –" He cut off abruptly, his mouth hanging open in an unfinished sentence. He had been gesturing to Melody, but upon moving to point at Brittany, came up short. He gaped at Brittany and his face paled faster than she'd ever seen before.

"Oh, that's alright. The character is too dry anyway; I'd never be able to bring her to life. I don't think _anyone _could, actually, and I want my debut to be poignant and memorable. Not to _mention _her hair… it looks like wet popcorn," She broke off, turning to Brittany with wide eyes. "Oh, not that yours looks like wet popcorn! It's more like… a mop. Very Hermione."

Brittany squinted at her, but her attention was diverted by a hand on her arm.

"You… Look just like…" Mr. Kirkman was gaping up at Brittany like a child starring into a candy shop window, his mouth open and his eyes glazed over. "This is so bizarre. Peter!" He suddenly screamed, whirling around in his seat and gesturing madly at a man who appeared extremely stressed out. He interrupted Peter apparently chewing out a zombie for breaking proper-character, and Peter shifted his fire-filled gaze to Mr. Kirkman.

Brittany winced. If looks could kill… "_What_!" Peter seethed at him, but Mr. Kirkman didn't even blink.

"Come get a picture of me and…" He turned back to look at Brittany.

"Oh, uh, Brittany. Brittany Mathers." She supplied quickly, picking at the hem of her shirt nervously.

"Me and Ms. Mathers!"

Peter gaped at him for a moment, apparently disbelieving. "Take it _yourself_." He snapped.

Mr. Kirkman raised his eyebrows. "Trust me, you're going to want to see this yourself."

* * *

Dozens of pictures and an hour long conversation later, Brittany stumbled towards the exit of the Best Buy with Amy stuck close to her side.

"Can you believe it? I can't believe it! He was all, _this changes everything_, and _I've got to blow this picture up for my office, _and – oh god, is it me, or was he starstruck to see _you_?" Amy gushed, her hands fluttering around her face like two butterflies on crack.

"Brittany?" Amy said, looking at Brittany in mild awe tinged with envy for the millionth time that night. She snapped her fingers in front of her best friend's face, and Brittany blinked, turning her glassy eyes to her friend.

She blinked. "Is this real?" She murmured.

Amy smirked. "What, you mean the writer of Walking Dead fangirling over you? Or the fact that he followed you on Twitter _and _posted a picture with you on Instagram? And then _another _of you holding a comic strip featuring your _twin _next to your face?"

Brittany blinked again. "That actually happened?"

Amy giggled "Yeah!"

The girls stepped through the sliding glass doors, but before anything else could be said between the two, the alarms wailed in their ears.

The store had thinned considerably since they first entered, but what customers remained paused from snapping pictures of Robert and peered curiously at the pair of friends.

"Mam, your bag please?" Said a burly man, who looked like three of Brittany smushed together.

She gulped and read the bold white print across his black t-shirt. _Security_…

Her eye started twitching. "Okay…" She said quietly, handing her bag over without a fuss because she knew he wouldn't find anything. Amy did the same to a thinner guard nearby while he searched her bag.

He pulled out a box and held it up to her face. "Mam, care to explain?"

"What?" Brittany snapped, finally coming out of her starstruck bliss. She blinked rapidly, focusing in on the box in his hands.

"What the –" She started to reach for the box, but the large man stepped back and put a hand up in warning.

"Mam," He pressed harder, his voice raising in volume. "I'm asking you to cooperate. Now you can tell me how this got into your bag," He waggled the box that contained a rather pricey looking camera in his hand. "Or you can resist me – either way, the cops are getting called, and you're not leaving this building until that happens. So it's in your interest to cooperate with me."

"But I never even went anywhere near the cameras!"

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "This box says otherwise. Did you try to steal from this establishment?"

"No!" She exclaimed, frantic now. "I don't even know how I got that!"

He calmly nodded, patronizingly gesturing for her to follow him. "This way, mam."

"No, you don't understand!" She reiterated. "I wouldn't steal! I was in the Walking Dead part, over ther –" She broke off, spotting a young girl with wire rim glasses and teeth too big for her mouth.

_Melody_. She was pressing a hand over her mouth and stage-stifling a giggle, waggling a finger at her as her companion took pictures of Melody being escorted away by security.

She narrowed her eyes at the girl, and Amy suddenly lunged for her. "Why you little," The thinner security guard latched onto Amy before she could attack Melody. "Let me go!" She screamed. "I'm gonna wring her little chicken neck! I'll snap it in two!"

Brittany gasped, frowning at Amy's overreaction. Amy was notorious for having a temper, but even Brittany could admit that she was taking it too far with the death threats. _Especially _since they're on thin ice.

The two girls were dragged through the store to a back room, and were deposited there while the security guards left to call someone.

* * *

"Everything is awesome," Amy sang, clicking her pen on the desk. Brittany had her head in her hands, her fingers tangled in her unruly blonde curls. "Everything is cool when you're part of a team –"

"_Amy_!" Brittany finally snapped, raising her head and glaring daggers at her friend. "Would you _shut up_?"

"Okay, fine." She said, putting her hands up in a surrendering fashion. "Jeeze…" She looked around, clicking her pen a few more times. Before Brittany could snatch it away, she stopped and turned to face her. "What do you think is taking so long?"

Brittany sighed, sitting back and sinking into her chair. "I don't know, Ames." She rubbed her eyes. "All I know is that I _didn't_ steal that camera."

Amy scoffed, "It _had _to have been that little shit Meredith."

" – Melody."

"Whatever. Did you see the way she was snickering? Ugh, if I had gotten my hands on her…"

"Amy," Brittany began delicately. "Don't you think… I mean, that was just a little bit –"

"What?" She said, staring uncomprehendingly at her friend.

"…Ah, I just mean that maybe your reaction was a little… Drastic."

"Drastic?" Amy raised her eyebrows. "What are you saying?"

"I'm just saying that we could've handled the situation better, is all." Brittany said defensively, crossing her arms.

Amy frowned, nudging her head forward in disbelief. "I was sticking up for _you_."

"No, I know!" Brittany waved her hands around dismissively. "It was just a little… too much."

Amy scrunched her nose up. "Unbelieveable. You know, ever since Brad dumped you, you've been –"

"_Don't _bring him into this!"

"I'm just saying! You act like he was the godamn messiah! He was a total piece of shit, Brittany."

"Amy, shut up!"

"No! I've been waiting to say this for a long time; hell, everyone has! He treated you like crap –"

"I don't wanna hear it!"

"Well maybe you _need _to!"

"This isn't about that!"

"It's always about him!"

"_What_ –"

Suddenly, it seemed as if the whole earth was set off its rocker. The ground shook violently, and the cups of water that had been brought to them a few hours ago teetered slightly, the liquid dancing unsteadily.

The overhead lamps swayed dangerously. Argument completely forgotten, Brittany jumped to action and tugged her friend off of her chair. She knocked her to the ground just as one of the light fixtures tumbled down to the ground, spearing through the flimsy plastic chair she had just been seated in.

"Jesus _Christ_!" Amy hissed, kicking away from her chair. The two friends scrambled to stand up. "What is this?!" She turned to her friend, latching onto her arm so hard that her knuckles turned white. "Is this an earthquake?"

"We need to get to cover!" She gasped, and they struggled to stay on their feet as they fought for their balance on the quaking cement.

To Brittany, it felt like the room they were in was a snow globe, and some giant hand was shaking up the papers and anything that wasn't nailed down inside it. Papers littered the floor, the table that they had been seated at moments before was knocked over. More light fixtures crashed to the ground, and they shielded their faces as glass sprayed up from the impact.

It was happening so fast, they hadn't even had time to run for cover in the midst of it all.

If anything, the shaking grew more violent. Brittany began scanning the room for sanctuary, and spotted it in the form of a sad looking table with a coffee pot on the top. She held her hand out to say something, but fell short when she saw the very _ground _beneath them splitting into two... before she could say anything, her friend's hand collided with her shoulder.

"Brittany, look out!" She screamed, and Brittany felt white hot pain lace crackle behind her eyelids… and then, blackness…

* * *

**_So this is an idea I've been playing around with. It will be an AU, in which an OC is dropped into the Walking Dead Universe. What do you guys think? Should I continue?_**


	2. What Fresh Hell Is This

They say when you experience a traumatic head injury, you should do everything you can to avoid sustaining any further damage. Brittany Mathers knows this, and has always been one to play by the rules. So why is it that she was jerked violently awake by a tape roller? One of those heavy-duty ones, too, like the industrial kind or something. The ones filled with sand.

She had been sprawled across the concrete, and something was digging into her back. She was lying on her arm at an awkward angle, face down. It felt like she'd been there for hours, and her head felt like an egg that someone was desperately trying to crack open.

No sooner had the dark room swam into her vision then something crashed into her skull as she tried to lift her head. She fell back with a thud, and stars danced in her vision.

"_Oof_!" A whoosh of air left her, and she cradled her head delicately in her hands. "Wha- What the fuck…"

" – Everything is cool when you're part of a team," A trembling voice sang. It was slightly off key in some parts, but Brittany knew that voice. She blinked groggily, trying to stabilize the ceiling that was swimming in her vision.

"Amy?" Brittany croaked.

"Awesooom –" She heard a gasp. "_Brittany! _Oh my god," She could hear rustling as Amy scrambled to stand up. "Finally! Are you alright? I was so worried! I mean, you couldn't be dead – you just _couldn't _be, but that damn shelf smacked you so hard… I think there's a dent in it that's the shape of your head!"

Brittany grunted as she pulled herself up. She gingerly prodded at the right side of her head, where a goose egg was forming. "H-How can you _see_?"

"Oh, you get used to that. Yeah, it's been black ever since you went down. Dunno what happened, but no one has tried to come in here for a while… there hasn't even been any noise coming from out there…since…" The last sentence was smaller, Amy's voice reflecting that of a frightened child. "Brit, what do we do?"

"I guess we get out of here." She paused, then turned to Amy with her hands on her hips. "Hey, why were you _throwing _things at me?"

"I didn't know how else to wake you up!" She shouted defensively. "Hey – Hey, Brittany," Her voice was panicky, and she sounded suspicious. "Brittany, what are you doing? Don't move! Don't walk towards me – _stop_!"

Brittany came to an abrupt stop, her hands grappling out in the air blindly in front of her.

"_What_?"

"There's a huge – um… crack. In the ground. Like, massively huge. I didn't want you to fall in… you're right at the edge." Amy's voice was slow, as if she was still trying to grasp the situation.

Brittany slid her foot cautiously forward and blinked rapidly as she desperately tried to see through the darkness. She could see shapes now; make out Amy's silhouette… but she was so far away, and that didn't make any sense… Brittany looked down.

She nearly fell back on her butt when she did, because suddenly it was _there _and – oh god, how did she not see it before?

A giant crack, running right down the middle of the room. It was like the scene from the end of Breaking Dawn Part 2. It seemed to go down forever, and if Amy hadn't said anything, she might've…

"_Jesus_…" She breathed, and Amy made a noise of agreement.

"Tell me about it. So anyway, we're separated, and I didn't know what to do… so I was just trying to wake you up. I'm pretty sure I've thrown anything that isn't nailed down at you."

"Yeah." Brittany said flatly, touching the swelling knot on her head. "I got that."

She sighed and put her hands on her hips, toeing the cracked cement at the edge of the giant crevice.

"Now what?"

Silence was her answer, as both girls tried to think of what to do.

"Well, I mean… I've been thinking… When you woke up, I had this idea… Brittany, we need to get out of here."

"No shit –"

"No, I mean… I think you're going to have to jump."

"_Me_? Why me!"

"Because the exit is on _my side_!"

Brittany blinked, her eyes flickering to the door behind Amy. "Oh." She said lamely.

"Yeah."

She looked back down at the daunting gap…

"I just… I just want to know how deep it is."

Amy snorted. "Don't we all?"

"What if we throw something down?"

Amy's mouth fell open. "That's a great idea! We can listen to see how long it takes to drop," she exclaimed.

"Exactly!" They both looked at each other for a split second, and then simultaneously realized something.

"What do we throw?"

"Well _you_ threw away everything from your side, so I guess I'll have to find something…"

"Hey!" Amy said defensively, crossing her arms. "It worked, didn't it?"

Brittany bit back a retort, opting to instead turn away and begin searching.

"Well I don't know what happened to the stuff when you threw it, but I can't find a damn thing… Wait, here's something."

She held up a plastic square with a dry, ironic smile.

Amy frowned. She squinted through the darkness, peering as she tried to make out what it - "_Hell _no! Don't you _dare_!"

In Brittany's grasp was the Holy Grail of games. She found it lying next to the heavy metal table they had been seated at, which was overturned. "I mean, you'd think they'd have taken this from you…"

"As if they could pry it from my _cold, dead _fingers!" Amy snapped. "Besides," She added as an afterthought. "They wouldn't dare ruin a sale."

Brittany pursed her lips, nodding thoughtfully. "True." There was a pause between the two, as Brittany gripped the plastic case and peered over the fissure at her friend. "Come on, Ames. We've gotta find out."

"What about…" She held up a piece of paper, her eyebrows raised in hope. Brittany sent her a bland look.

"Seriously? Think about that for a second. What do you propose we do, wad it up and spitball it?"

Amy's shoulders slumped in defeat, and the paper fluttered to her feet.

"Alright," she consented, though she sounded pained.

Brittany chucked the game into the gap before Amy could change her mind.

"How creepy would it be if something threw it back?" Amy said, as they both leaned over to curiously peer down into the black pit.

Brittany smirked, but threw Amy a harsh look, and Amy shook her head. She waved her hand at Brittany and said, "No, you're right. It's not the time… _totally_…"

"I counted six seconds. What about you?"

"Oh, come on! That reference to Meredith was _totally_ funny."

Brittany wryly shook her head. "Six it is, then."

"So that's what, sixty feet?"

Brittany blinked. "Yeah, I guess. Alright, well… that's pretty far…" her heart rate picked up as she looked at the dark gap. "I'm gonna throw up."

"Brittany, it'll be fine! I'll catch you! It's just like in the movies. If Gimli could make the jump, you can _definitely_ make the jump."

"Legolas caught Gimli by the beard!"

Amy gasped, mocking hurt. "Don't speak of that horrid blunder on Dwarven pride!" She put her hand to her chest. "Have some respect,"

Brittany giggled, covering her mouth and smiling at her friend's ridiculousness. Amy smiled back, and nodded encouragingly. "I'll be the Legolas to your Gimli! I'll catch your beard, promise."

Brittany blinked, and as she moved to the other side of the room she wondered how girls could manage to make the most outlandish statements so damn sentimental. And also wondered why she had to be the short, ugly dwarf in this equation.

She turned back to face Amy, who was poised like a sumo-wrestler.

"Amy, what are you doing?"

"Bracing myself!"

"What are you bracing yourself for?"

"To catch you!" She shifted on her feet, still in the sumo-position.

"You look ridiculous!"

"Just _jump!_"

"Alright, alright…" She took a deep breath, wondered mildly if she should do some stretches, and then dismissed that ludicrous thought. "Okay… Here goes."

She sprinted across the room, covering the distance much more quickly than she anticipated, and before she could change her mind she jumped. And it was _nothing _like the movies.

Her arms wind milled, and so did her legs, and she was flailing across the pit like a hopeless idiot. Finally, Amy caught her arm. But then the impact of them colliding set Amy off balance, and she stumbled forward, and then gravity took over – and suddenly they were _both _falling, and screaming, and six seconds later…

* * *

The girls tumbled after each other like shirts in a dryer, all tangled limbs and screaming the whole way. They collided with a rough surface, and the sunlight hit their face so harshly it felt as if they had been thrown onto the surface of the Sun.

When they stopped rolling, the girls disentangled themselves. In the process, a lock of Brittany's wiry curls got snagged on one of Amy's shirt buttons.

"_Ow_, no, stop! Stop stop stop! That's not working!" Brittany was clinging pathetically to the tangled chunk of hair, and Amy was working to pick it apart strand by strand. "That will take forever!"

"Well I don't want to hurt you!"

"Just," She reached up and began to help unraveling it. Together, it sped the process along, and in no time she was liberated. "There."

The girls sagged away from each other and sighed in relief. "Shit, that was exhausting. Where are – we…" Amy trailed off, as the pair took in their surroundings.

It was broad daylight, and the sun seemed to be cooking them alive. You know when it gets so hot, you swear you can actually hear the hum of the air around you? Or, maybe that's just the ringing in Brittany's ears.

Brittany delicately rubbed her eyes, while Amy muttered, "What fresh hell is this," Under her breath. "You know what this looks like, Brit…" She said, in such a way that suggested they were likely thinking the same thing.

Brittany squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light. She looked around, running her hands over the gritty surface of the cement under her fingers. "Well, it _looks_ like a rooftop… but… it's also familiar." She turned to look at Amy. "What the fuck is happening?"

Amy looked paler than Brittany had ever seen. Her red hair was a mess, and there was no wind to blow it around - just soupy air and stifling heat. She couldn't help but wonder the state of her own hair, and as she reached up to smooth a hand over it, Amy said, "This is going to sound crazy, but… It looks like the roof that Merle got stuck on."

Brittany's immediate reaction was to snort. But then she glanced around, and saw the pipes that looked eerily similar to the ones that he had been handcuffed to… and the door that had been chained shut… her pulse picked up speed, and she stood on shaking legs.

"Amy, what is this?" Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, but she couldn't see past anything but those pipes. She lifted a hand and pointed to what looked like blood.

"Oh, _shit_!" Amy exclaimed, and also hurried to stand up. Brittany moved forward, inching towards the blood.

An icy pool of dread was trickling through her stomach, and numbing her fingertips. She didn't want to find anything; she didn't want this to be real. When she was close enough, she peered over the other side of the pipes, and something glinted in the sunlight. Then she saw it.

Amy's screams sent Brittany stumbling to the side, because she didn't hear her approaching. But she couldn't blame her best friend's reaction – because oh _god _is that…

"It can't be!" Brittany grunted, her voice sounding strange and inhuman. "Oh, fuck… That … Is that…"

Amy screamed again, wildly turning to face her friend. Her face was frantic, and she was batting her hand in the general direction of what lay a few feet from them. "No, no, no, no…. That's a fucking _hand _oh my god, that's a _severed hand_, Brittany! Oh, god, I'm gonna –"

The sounds of Amy retching broke through the ringing in Brittany's ears. She swayed on her feet, and almost fell on her ass.

And then she heard it.

The metal door screeched behind her, its rusted hinges sounding like nails on a chalk board. Brittany whirled around on unsteady feet, just in time to see a rotted looking sneaker poke out from the behind it.

A sickly, wet sounding grunt came from the other side. It echoed down the stairwell that Brittany remembered lay beyond the door.

She shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, god, no – _stop _it! This isn't funny!"

The door was pushed the rest of the way open, and it revealed the most deplorable sight that Brittany had ever, and will _ever _see. She stumbled back into her friend, who was clearly in shock as she gasped unsteadily behind her.

A man with grey, rotting skin, wearing a torn electrician's uniform was limping toward them. He was dragging a foot behind him, and his head was lulled lazily to the side. His cheek had a hole in it, and she could see his decaying teeth through the dead skin. His eyes – oh _god, _his _eyes_.

The whites had turned the unsettling color of rotted eggs. The irises were an unnaturally striking grey color, like they had once been beautiful, but were now infected with blood and swollen. Several blood vessels had burst, giving them a nightmarish quality. There was a film that had developed over the pupils, vaguely giving the impression that he couldn't _see _them – not really.

And she could smell him from here, and it was not unlike smelling roadkill from a mile away. She knew with a certainty in her gut that even if he had contacts in and some _freakishly _amazing makeup, there was just no faking that smell. It was rotting flesh and sludgy blood. It stained everything it touched, like smoke from a cigarette leaving a sooty film on the walls of a house. It felt like it was soaking into her very pores, and she thought that just by standing in his vicinity, she was infected with his disease.

She had never felt such terror in her life.

She had never known this fear, this animalistic need to _get away_.

The hairs on her arms stood at attention. She couldn't even think long enough to scream, and if she tried, it would probably come up as vomit.

She imagined her hair puffing up like in those Japanese cartoons, and she stumbled back from the doorway. She couldn't stop, because with every limp he took towards her, she took three steps from him.

It didn't take long before she felt the edge of the roof touch her back. She pressed herself against it, and couldn't look anywhere but at the thing that was trudging toward her.

It was ten feet away now.

Sobs racked her body.

Six feet.

Tears soaked her face.

Four feet.

She couldn't breathe; couldn't think; couldn't _move_.

Two feet.

It swiped at her, and instinct took over. She lunged to the side, and it fell over the edge of the rooftop.

Screaming registered in her mind then, and moment later it registered that it was _her_ who was screaming.

And then it all started happening very quickly.

The door to the stairwell busted open again. She looked to her right, and saw Amy passed out on the white cement of the rooftop. She tried to stop screaming, but her body just wasn't listening. A man had come barreling onto the roof.

He was pointing something at her… it vaguely occurred to her that she should be afraid, because that's a _weapon_ he's pointing at her – and he's not slowing down. No, in a matter of seconds, he was on the roof, looked down to see Amy, spotted Brittany (who was still screaming), and then he crossed the distance of the roof.

He loomed in front of her, saying something. What is he saying?

Brittany tried to listen. Her screams hesitated.

Recognition flashed through her mind. She scrunched her face up, staring at him in pure confusion.

A moment of silence passed between them, and then two more men busted through the door of the stairwell.

Her gaze fell on them, and one of them says, "Daryl?" In a bewildered tone.

The world went black.

* * *

_**Okay, I'm pretty excited to jump into this now. What do you guys think? Are you up for a story like this? :) **_


	3. Ga-Gunk, Ga-Gunk, Ga-Gunk

_**(A/N) Heads up... this chapter contains lots of foul language as well as some violence. The violence is nothing grotesque, but it's there so... **_

_**And another thing; Daryl says something in this chapter that's quite offensive to a lot of people. I know that it's a horrible thing to say, and so does Daryl, but try to remember that this is set in the very beginning of the show. I remember always being shocked at the stuff that came from Daryl's mouth, and struggling to keep up with the insults he hurled at people. Quite frankly, I didn't like Daryl right away. It took some time. I always wondered what he'd say next, so I tried to portray that here by using something we've never heard him say before. Keep in mind that he **_**is ****_supposed to be a redneck asshole. And also that he learned at the feet of the master, Merle... _**

_**So anyway, you've been warned...**_

* * *

Dreams can haunt you. Brittany knows this from experience; because she's had plenty of dreams haunt her before. They stick in the back of your mind like a parasite – infecting all the good thoughts you have of the day.

Some people say that by the time they wake up, they've forgotten what they dreamt about. Brittany is envious of those people. She's certain they take it for granted, because what bliss could it be to forget your nightmares?

This most recent one has left her shaking. Her hands are trembling, and she's broken into a cold sweat. Her throat hurts like it was strained from holding back tears, or screaming or something. It's the worst kind of Post-Dream-Trauma; the signs are all there. They suggest that any hope Brittany once had for a good day are gone, and she's not even out of bed yet.

This was the kind of dream that shook her to the very core. It called who she was into question, because how could something she loves so much strike such a fear within her? Was it not just yesterday that she was in a hazy bliss after meeting one of the creators of the Walking Dead? Was it not just yesterday that she fantasized, for a moment, maybe she could _actually _be one of the characters who lived inside that world?

And here she is today, shaking and wanting _desperately_ to forget that horrid dream. First, a natural disaster strikes. An earthquake! And in Georgia, no less. Unheard of! And secondly, there was that… undead _thing_. The very root of her biggest hobby. Without the zombies, there would be no Walking Dead. So why does she feel such potent relief when she tells herself it's _not real? _Those demonic entities are a work of fiction, along with every other character that dwells with them.

Such a stark contrast to how she has felt for the last four years, when she first learned of its existence.

Sighing, she ran a clammy hand down her face and pressed her fingers into her eyes, attempting to gently massage away her migraine. The only thing that she could think is, _Thank _God _that it's not real._

"Hey guys," Said a voice from nearby. Brittany jerked in shock. "She's awake!"

Her eyes snapped open, and fell on a dark-skinned young man in front of her. She knew that face – she knew that man…

"No." She murmured, dropping a hand to her stomach, which suddenly felt heavy with vomit. "No, no, no," She groaned, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands.

She hazily realized that they were still on the roof. The unbearable heat and hard, gritty surface cutting into her butt was evidence enough for that.

It was real.

It all really happened.

"Hey, you okay?" Said T-Dog, leaning closer to her and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You and your friend look to of had a rough way of it."

"Whatchu doin' up here?" Snapped a gruff voice from behind T-Dog, who was crouched gently in front of Brittany.

Brittany groaned when she recognized the accent that belong to Daryl Dixon, the character she had been enthralled with since season two.

Something hard and metal pressed against her shoulder.

"Hey, I'm talkin' tuh you, bitch! Where's my brother?!"

"Man, relax!" T-Dog frowned, and his hand left her shoulder. She peeked through her fingers and watched as he moved toward Daryl.

"Don't tell me to relax, asshole!" Daryl snarled, dropping his crossbow from Brittany's shoulder and facing T-Dog. He jabbed an accusatory finger in his chest. "This is _your _goddamn fault, and I'll be damned if I stand by and let these bitches –"

"Hey!" Rick suddenly piped up, stalking up from somewhere. "Look at them!"

T-Dog and Daryl paused. T-Dog had his chin jutted in defiance and moved closer to Rick. Daryl hesitated, looking down at Brittany and Amy with a leashed fury evident in his eyes. She couldn't help but admire how striking they were, and how his presence seemed to occupy every inch of the roof.

She couldn't imagine how he managed to sneak through the woods – it seemed like every part of her was _screaming_ that he was danger. She was completely aware of his presence.

But then, this couldn't be real. He couldn't be real. This had to be a dream - a nightmare. Her latest one is sticking around unusually vividly.

"You think these two girls took on Merle? You think they could've laid a _finger _on him?" Rick pressed, stepping forward passionately towards Daryl. "Look at them!"

"Still don't answer my question." Daryl finally said. He looked to Brittany, the only conscious one between the pair of friends. "Whatchu doin' up here?"

"I –" She broke off, looking around the roof. "I don't know," She said lamely, completely at a loss. How did she get here? What is she doing _here_?

"The _fuck_ does that mean –" Daryl started, but Rick pressed a warning hand to his chest. Daryl yanked it off, and backed away with a huff. He shook his head and walked to the other side of the roof as Rick stepped closer to Brittany.

"You can't remember how you got here?" Rick gently asked, crouching in front of her.

Brittany blinked. Well, she could remember, but… he would never believe her. And she couldn't believe it was real, so she supposed that saying she didn't remember was the lesser of the two evils.

"Uh," She cleared her throat. "No." She tried her best to convey an apologetic tone. She may be delusional, but something in the back of her mind, some _miniscule _part of her is saying that if this _is _real, then these men are dangerous. Well, one in particular, anyway. Daryl is out for blood at this point in the show. He's missing his brother, and he's a notoriously volatile character. He hasn't softened yet at all. That miniscule part of herself is saying it's better to air on the side of caution, so she decides to let them fill in the blanks for her.

For now.

Rick frowned slightly. His eyes ran over her in a calculating way, and he nodded tightly. "Looks like you took quite the tumble." He said, nodding to her head. "Think that's why you can't remember?"

Her mouth parted slightly as she touched the swollen part of her skull. "Uh – y-yeah…"

"What about your name? Can you remember that?" He asked gently, and she was struck by how familiar that tone of voice was. How she felt that she already knew this man, yet she had barely spoken three words to him.

"Y-Yes…" She cleared her throat. "I'm Brittany Mathers, and this is Amy Hale." She paused, looking down at Amy. "We're best friends."

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Mathers. My name is Sheriff Deputy Rick Grimes, and the men who spoke to you earlier are T-Dog," He pointed to said man, who nodded at her, clutching his weapon close to his chest. "And Daryl Dixon." He pointed back to Daryl and Glenn. "The one you haven't met yet is Glenn."

Brittany blinked, knowing that this should be hard for her to absorb, and using the delirium that her head injury gave her as a crutch. And also the fact that she couldn't quite believe any of this was real. "Um… I have to say that it's a shock to meet you, officer." _In more ways than you'll ever know_.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh?"

"We… Haven't exactly seen many survivors so far." She admitted, and could do so with a clear-conscience because it was true – they hadn't seen _any _survivors, actually, because this is the first instance they've been in a zombie apocalypse!

"You don't have a group?" He asked, appearing to hesitate with the question. She supposed that was a touchy subject in this world.

"You're looking at it." She quietly said, looking down.

He nodded again, told her to stay put, and jerked his head at T-Dog to follow him. The two men joined Daryl and Glenn at the other side of the roof, and she strained her ears to listen. Her eyes found their way back to the – the pipes… where she saw Merle's _hand_. She noted that it was gone, and that must mean that she was passed out during Daryl's little freak out. She turned her attention back to the group.

She struggled to decipher much else but a wayward phrase, although she could clearly see their body language. Rick gestured to an unconscious Amy, who still lay next to Brittany. Daryl was pacing like a caged lion, his body tense with anticipation. T-Dog was shaking his head about something, and it occurred to her than Glenn was openly gawking at the two girls.

Well, then again, she was probably gawking at them, too. She couldn't help it; here she is, sitting on _this_ roof. And she couldn't decide if it was some crazy dream, or if she had fallen through to a parallel universe, or if she had always been in this world from the beginning, and her injury to her head had muddled and confused her… but then she felt the steady breath of her friend rustle some of her blonde curls, and she quickly dismissed that last notion.

Then the breathing hitched, and she turned to watch as her friend slowly came around. She groaned, blinking drearily against the harsh sunlight.

"Wha – Where am I?" She croaked. A nasty bruise was forming on the side of her face from when she must've collapsed against the cement rooftop. "Brittany?" She breathed, sounding mildly confused.

"Hey," Brittany murmured, her eyes flickering to the group on the other side of the roof. They seemed immersed in their conversation, and were therefore unaware that Amy had regained consciousness. Brittany let out a breath of relief.

She tensed when her friend started to panic, looking around and shifting uneasily as it all seemed to come flooding back to her.

"Oh, god… Oh shit, oh fuck, oh _my god_," Amy's voice was rising above a murmur now, but Brittany pressed a hand firmly into her shoulder.

"Listen to me." She firmly commanded, which was uncharacteristic. It caught Amy's attention, and she pressed on. "This is real." _It can't be,_ her mind protested. "Or, I think it is. We have to handle this delicately." _When was this decided?_

Right now. Seeing her friend panic made Brittany realize how incredibly careful they had to be – because in this world, everyone is on thin ice as soon as they meet. It doesn't take much to warrant a death sentence anymore, and screaming and running around like a lunatic with her head on fire might just catch Amy the first ticket to the green mile.

Amy blinked perplexedly at her. She followed her anxious gaze to the group on the other side of the roof. Her eyes widened, and she stiffened. "Is that –"

"Yes!" Brittany hissed, smacking Amy in the arm before she could try to stand up. "Stay still, and lower your voice! We have to try to regroup before they notice you're awake! We need a story!" She couldn't explain how important this was.

"A story?" Her friend frowned, scrunching her face up at Brittany.

Brittany resisted the urge to scream in frustration. "Yes, a story!" She shushed.

"Alright, alright. Just tell me what you mean," Amy said defensively, the frown between her eyebrows deepening.

"Okay…" Brittany said, glancing back and settling a bit when she realized the group seemed far from over with their conversation. "Okay. I told Rick I couldn't remember how we got here."

Amy blinked. "This is so weird."

"I know." Brittany racked her brain for ideas. "I mean, what do we even say? If it were just me, I could stick with the '_I don't remember; I'm a defenseless idiot'_ story – but with you…" She shook her head. "I can't think right now."

Amy pursed her lips. "What if we said that – we had stumbled across the store, looking for supplies, and the walkers chased us from the lobby up to the roof… so we … wait, were the chains cut already when we got here?"

Brittany shrugged. "They had to be. That walker got through, and there was only one. So that means the herd had been cleared by the time we, uh, zapped here – and just the one found its way up the stairwell."

"Lucky us." Amy said dryly. "You know, I always wondered how Merle had gotten off the roof if the chain was still latched."

Brittany frowned at her. "He went out the other exit."

"Who?" said Rick, and both girls jumped in surprise. Brittany mentally cursed.

"Uh – that guy who was up here before?" She stumbled over her words, and it came out more like a question than an answer.

Daryl suddenly perked up, striding forward and concentrating on Brittany. "What guy?"

"The one," Brittany's eyes flickered to Amy, who was staring at her with a startled look on her face. "Who was wearing the vest." She looked between Rick, T-Dog, Glenn, Amy, and finally back at Daryl. "The asshole with the accent."

Daryl started forward, looking like he wanted to give her a piece of his mind, but Rick touched his shoulder and T-Dog beat him to the punch. "You saw Merle?"

Daryl shook Rick off, sending him a venomous glare. Brittany suppressed a shudder at how feisty he was, and then beat the fangirl inside into submission.

Amy cleared her throat. "Yeah. Uh, he was halfway across the roof by the time we got here, and was in a real hurry to get away. He hopped down those stairs over there. Kinda seemed hysterical."

Glenn shook his head. "We would have seen him. We would have run into him in the store." He cast a wary look that flickered between the men of his group, an unspoken warning.

Daryl looked about ready to explode. "Somebody better start explainin' –"

"We ran into some wa –" Amy covered her mistake with a cough. "Excuse me. Some zombies." She wheezed, laying it on thick. "Had to take care of them first." Daryl hesitated.

"Well how'd you do that?" Glenn frowned.

"Yeah, you looked about ready to fall over by the time I found you." Daryl jutted his chin at Brittany, who shook away her awe at the fact that she was _actually _holding a conversation with the cast of the Walking Dead.

"And _you _were out cold." Rick added, looking at Amy.

"Well, I _did _fall down." Brittany said, acting like she was just remembering; like the fact that she had fallen down fascinated her as much as it did them. The lies were coming easily now.

"Yeah, there were so many of them, and only two of us." Amy pitched in, a foreign excitement glinting in her eyes.

"So we tried luring them to the edge of the roof and just making them fall over the sides."

"Which worked," Amy added.

"For the most part." Brittany looked down at her lap, really selling it. "But there were too many." She said slowly, squinting her eyes like she was searching for the right answer. "I was running from one of them, and I tripped over that saw." She touched her head delicately. "Hit my head against the pipe. I was out cold for a long time, and when I came around, Amy had somehow gotten knocked out, Merle was _long _gone, and one more found its way to the roof." She didn't have to suppress or fake her shudder this time.

She mildly wondered if she should've hesitated on Merle's name, but decided to roll with it and pray that none of them found it strange, seeing as she never _officially _met the man. "I was backed into a corner. It overwhelmed me… I think, I think I forgot where I was for a bit."

The men standing around her presented a mix of emotions. Daryl was looking anxious, probably ready to tear after Merle, Brittany thought. Glenn, although appearing to want to help, also watched them with a guarded expression. He stood off to the side, frowning at the two girls. T-Dog wore the picture of sympathy. A crease folded his eyebrows together, and he was shaking his head and clicking his tongue, glancing at the rest of the men in his group.

And Rick… Rick she couldn't read. His face was a stalwart, and his hands perpetually held that revolver.

She shook her head, "So anyway, that's when you guys came along. And you know the rest."

"No wonder you were so shaken up." T-Dog whistled. "Can't imagine bein' cornered without a weapon like that."

Glenn scrunched his face up and turned to Rick. The men stepped away, and Glenn spoke in a low voice, but Brittany could still hear him.

"Something's off." He said, his eyes flickering over to the two girls. Brittany shifted uncomfortably. What had they missed?

Rick waited for him to elaborate. "They seemed to have missed a pretty important detail." Glenn insisted, nudging his head back toward the pipes. "Merle was missing a hand. I mean, that's something that _I _would have noticed."

Understanding flooded Rick's expression. "Somethin' I woulda mentioned, too." He added, his face hard.

Daryl stormed over to them, apparently fed up. "And I think _y'all_ are missin' somethin'!"

The group all turned to him with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance.

"While we're standin' around with our junk in our hands, Merle's runnin' around missin' his!" He snarled, moving toward the exit. He watched the ground, and for the third time that day a fangirl thrill went through Brittany as she watched Daryl Dixon track – for the first time, in the flesh.

Amy scrunched up her face. "His junk?"

"His hand." Brittany quietly realized, only loud enough for Amy to hear as she closed her eyes and cursed their stupidity.

"What?" Amy frowned.

Rick finally approached the girls, but before she could get a good read on him, he barked, "Come on," and Brittany lost the chance to elaborate to Amy. "We gotta go."

"We ain't takin' them with us!" Daryl suddenly snarled, whirling on his heels.

"Daryl, we can't leave them, man! 'Sides, what are the chances he's alive, anyway?" T-Dog exclaimed. At some point he had picked the toolbox up that belonged to Dale.

"I've had 'bout all I can stand uh you," Daryl warned, pointing a finger in T-Dog's face.

"They were the last ones to see Merle alive, Daryl. Maybe they saw something… something that was important." Glenn added, moving closer to Daryl.

Daryl hesitated, looking at Rick. "He's right." Rick grimly stated. "Witnesses remember important details later all the time. Never mind the fact that she's sustained a head injury," he gestured to the girls. "If we don't find him right away, they could help."

T-Dog moved toward the girls. "And I ain't leavin' anyone else behind on this damn roof. Not again." Something flickered across Daryl's face, but before Brittany could dwell on it, T-Dog set the tool box down and hauled the girls up by their armpits. They both jerked in surprise.

"Hey!" Amy snapped.

She was ignored as the group moved toward the exit. T-Dog paused to swipe up the toolbox, but other than that kept alongside the group.

"Where would he have gone?" Glenn wondered aloud, as he hauled the door open and waited for Daryl to pass through the door. Rick followed, and then T-Dog pushed the two girls through. Glenn brought up the rear.

Amy shook T-Dog off as they began to descend the stairwell. She sent him a glare, and Brittany moved around them. She was anxious to keep up with the group at this point – she didn't think that reality had quite set in yet. The reality that she was _here_, with these people; that this was literally happening? It just… it was too surreal.

"He had to of used a tourniquet." Daryl mused aloud, worrying his bottom lip. "Be more blood otherwise."

"Ain't that a bitch," Brittany said without thinking, quoting one of her favorite lines that Daryl said. Daryl turned to her with mild surprise, and Amy deliberately stomped roughly on the back of Brittany's heels. She bit her lip and kept a friendly face for Daryl, who just blinked at her and continued on.

"Yeah." He said quietly, and the rest of the group seemed stupefied that he addressed Brittany. "Merle's a tough sumbitch."

"Stubborn, too." T-Dog threw in, and Rick shot him a warning glare. Daryl stiffened, but tactfully chose to let it go.

"That's my brother." He snorted. "Pigheaded piece uh shit…"

A bolt from his crossbow whistled through the air before colliding with a wet crunch. Amy and Brittany stiffened in shock, their hands finding their way to each other. They leaned on each other as the thing collapsed.

The smell was hard to ignore, and as Brittany looked around, she realized that the others had yet to grow accustomed to it. She remembered how early this was in the show – three, four episodes in? – and a small spark of excitement ignited in her stomach when she thought that she'd get to witness them all develop – both individually and as a group – first hand.

They passed the room where Daryl had shot the walker down, and the girls kept their heads down and hurried past. They cleared the hallway and emerged in a run-down looking dining area.

Tables were overturned, the bar was a hot mess, and the whole carpet seemed to be swimming in blood. Brittany found herself grateful when she stepped on areas that didn't squish with the gooey liquid. She sent a bottle of alcohol a lustful gaze.

"He was still kickin' hard 'nough tuh take these ugly faggots out…" Daryl noted, as he leaned over the gruesome sight of two dead walkers. One had its head smashed in, its brain matter littering the floor. The only indication that this unsettled him was the subtle curl of his lip. "One handed, too."

"Is it necessary to call them that?" Amy suddenly prompted, crossing her arms in defiance. "That's the best you could come up with?"

He looked back at Amy with distaste. He looked her up and down and snorted. "Why? Some reason ya take that term _personally_?"

Amy took the bait. Her arms fell to her sides and her fists clenched. "What if there is! The way I see it, the only person that would bother here is _you_!" she spat.

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't give two shits _whose_ house you hang your rainbow flag at, bitch."

Amy stiffened and strode forward, and Brittany scrambled forward to restrain her. "Amy!" She hissed, shoving her backward. "What the _heck_ do you think you're doing?!"

"Someone needs to put this _backwoods asshole_ in his place!" She hollered, peeking over Brittany's shoulder and pointing directly at Daryl.

"What, and you're the one to do it?" Brittany said, getting in Amy's face while keeping her hand firmly on her shoulder.

Amy snarled back at Brittany. "Just because you've got a woody for that prick –"

Brittany dug her fingers into Amy's shoulder, effectively cutting her off. "Come off your soap box, Amy. Now is _not _the time. I'm trying to _help_ you here!"

"Funny, sure doesn't seem –"

"Is everythin' alright over here?" Rick strode toward them and put himself between the rest of the group and the girls. His back was facing one certain hick in particular, though Brittany noted that he appeared to have already lost interest.

She watched from the corner of her eye and Daryl and the rest of the group trekked on without them.

"No." Brittany finally answered. She looked back at Rick. "It's fine. Amy is just… passionate."

Rick blinked, and looked like he was about to say something… and then thought better of it. "Okay. Well, if you've got it under control… You'll have to excuse Daryl. He's been… _passionate_, ever since his brother went missin'."

Brittany opened her mouth to comment, but Amy interrupted. "I'm not gay." She announced.

Brittany blinked and looked back at her in bafflement. Rick sheepishly shifted around. A few beats of silence passed between them all.

"I – it's just that my sister was… and I can't stand by and watch ignorant assholes say whatever they want."

"Oh." Rick finally said, at a loss for words. _He seems to be out of his element_, Brittany noted as she watched him squirm slightly.

"Well, now that that's all cleared up…" Brittany mercifully swooped in for Rick, because she knew how disconcerting Amy's announcements could be. If you're not used to them, that is. "Perhaps we should…"

Rick's tension left his body as he sent Brittany a thankful look. "Good idea." He said, and nodded for the girls to follow him.

Rick and the girls found the rest of the group inspecting something over a stove. Brown, sludgy blood smeared the metal countertops and various items. Brittany curled her lip when she almost touched a blood coated salt shaker, and turned away when she saw a stray hunk of flesh on the ground.

"There's something burned on it…" Glenn observed, picking at the spatula that they were all crowded around.

"Skin." Rick breathed, and Amy groaned. Glenn dropped the spatula with a gasp, practically jumping into T-Dog's arms and squealing like a girl. "He cauterized the wound!" Brittany caught fascination in Rick's voice, knew that he was amazed that someone could do that to themself.

"Oh, god…" Amy said, turning away and leaning over a sink. "I think I'm gonna –"

"Merle!" Daryl hollered, and Brittany whirled around.

"Daryl!" She hissed.

Everyone likes to think that when faced with life and death situations, they'd be the noble one; the hero who sacrificed themself for the greater good. The truth of the matter is, Brittany was still shaken up from those demonic pit-spawns – the few she's had to encounter – and the thought of Daryl attracting unnecessary attention scared the living shit out of her.

"You can't _do _that!" She hushed, moving towards him with a speed she didn't know she had.

"The hell I can't!" Daryl spat, not even turning to look at her. "That's my brother, he could still be here – passed out somewhere! Wouldn't be the first time –"

"Oh, come on!" Brittany snapped without thinking. She made the mistake of allowing her knowledge of Merle drive her words… knowledge she wasn't supposed to have. "T-There's no way he stuck around this place! I mean, he cut off his own hand. He seemed pretty determined to get the hell out of dodge."

"What do you know about it –"

"Hey!" Rick cut in, stepping between the two before the situation could escalate again. "Lunging for each other's throats at any given second isn't getting us _anywhere_."

Daryl and Brittany looked away from each other, hearing the truth in Rick's words.

"Daryl, I know you wanna find Merle, but Brittany is _right_. Screamin' his name is not the way to handle this. We gotta be _smart_, 'cause it's one of the best advantages we have over these things." Rick said. He made sure to keep eye contact with Daryl, who huffed in defeat and looked away.

"Did he - ?" Glenn suddenly piped up, moving around Daryl, Brittany, and Rick. He pointed to the shattered window that was behind them and they all turned, noticing it for the first time. "Why would he do that? Why would he just _leave_?"

"It's called _survival_." Daryl spat, perpetually angry. Brittany didn't remember him being so pissed off all the time in the shows and comics, but then again, maybe she did. "Thought he was on his _own_, and why wouldn't he?" He cut a nasty glare at T-Dog.

Brittany shifted on her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well he couldn't have gotten far." She said, as a way of truce. Daryl looked at her with guarded eyes, but something about the way his chin was tilted up told her that he accepted her tacit apology.

Brittany could feel Amy's incredulous look burning a hole in the side of her face, but she ignored it. She recognized when she was wrong, and she was the type of person to own up to it. Daryl just wanted to find his brother, and she overreacted.

"Okay." Rick said, and she could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Okay… we need to arm ourselves if we're gonna do this."

Daryl threw his head back and stalked off a few steps, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Brittany frowned before realizing what he was annoyed about. Rick was about to bring up the bag of guns, which a lot of people say was Rick's _real _reason for going back to Atlanta in the first place. Apparently, Daryl feels the same way.

Amy looked confused as T-Dog stepped up, "What are you sayin'? Are we really gonna risk ourselves for this dude?"

"Yes!" Rick snapped, turning a heated gaze to T-Dog. "We _owe _him that."

T-Dog's mouth clamped shut, and his jaw clenched as he looked away. "Yeah, okay." He said, quietly this time. "We need weapons, though."

"Exactly." Glenn piped up. He looked over at the girls. "But what about them?"

Amy and Brittany frowned at him, then exchanged confused glances.

"What _about_ them?" T-Dog asked uncomprehendingly.

"I mean – are we just going to hand them weapons?" He said, glancing between the girls and the rest of his group. "We don't know anything about them! Other than they survived Merle, _and _a hoard of walkers _without_ weapons."

Rick frowned slightly. "Weren't you just saying that it would be better to keep them with us?"

"I didn't say to throw a gun in their hands!"

"This is a waste uh time," Daryl growled, pacing a few feet away. "They gotta defend themselves, Chinaman. We can't watch them every second we're out there – unless _you're _volunteerin'?" Glenn clenched his jaw and shifted, but didn't say anything. "No? That's what I thought."

"Let's get somewhere and regroup." T-Dog suggested. "I gotta get outta this room…"

Brittany and Amy huffed in agreement and scrambled after him, grateful to escape the stifling atmosphere of Hell's Kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Brittany and Amy were following Daryl and Glenn down a dodgy looking yellow ladder, which lead down to an even dodgier looking alleyway.

Brittany's legs shook with apprehension as she slid her feet onto each rung, and her breathing was erratic. She knew what came next. She knew they had to face the Atlanta walkers.

Daryl and Glenn waited as Brittany hopped off first. She slipped at the last second, getting too grabby as she anticipated the hop down.

Daryl stepped forward on instinct and steadied her, and she shot him a grateful look. They waited for Amy, who seemed to be struggling more than Brittany.

She reached the end of the ladder and her foot came off of the last rung, swiping at the air as she tried to find the wet pavement below.

"Hurry up!" Glenn hoarsely whispered, and Amy's face turned a comical shade of red.

"I'm trying!" Her voice shook, and she clung tightly to the metal ladder. "I can't find the ground!"

"Just _jump_!" Brittany hissed, and Amy fretfully groaned.

"That's what I said to you, and look how we ended up!" She exclaimed.

"_Shut up!" _Brittany snapped, and Glenn and Daryl exchanged impatient glances. "The ground is _literally _two feet from the ladder!"

Amy whimpered.

"Jump!"

"No!" She stubbornly breathed, her voice watery.

"Jump! Right now!" Brittany stomped her foot, waved the pair of men away, and clomped forward. Glenn and Daryl shook their heads and hurried down the alley. She latched onto Amy's ankle and Amy let out a surprised shriek.

"Oh god," She wailed. "It's on me! Get it off! It's on me, I'm gonna die!" She began kicking at Brittany.

Brittany swatted at her foot. "If you don't shut up _right now _– It's _me _you dumbass!"

"Oh!" Amy exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. "Oh, god, Brittany! You _scared _me!"

"Be quiet!" Brittany snapped, her anger boiling over. "And get down here _right now_, or so help me…"

She helped Amy down, and by the time they joined Daryl behind the dumpster, Glenn had already taken off.

Daryl turned an unimpressed face to Amy as Brittany moved to crouch next to him. Amy crouched across from them, facing the alley instead of the metal gate.

"Did ya make it?" He dryly quipped.

"Listen here, asshole –" Amy started.

Brittany rolled her head back, "Oh, my god, now is _so _not the…" She trailed off when Amy looked away and her eyes widened. She tensed up and tightened her grip on the pair of scissors they had nabbed from the office they regrouped in.

Brittany clutched her own knife (from Hell's Kitchen) with a white-knuckled grip, nudging Daryl's elbow to get his attention.

He stiffened and jerked a single nod. _Of course he already knew something was there,_ she thought as he tilted his head to the side and listened.

He suddenly stood up and trained his crossbow on whatever was in the alley behind them. Amy scrambled to her feet, and Brittany followed suit.

"Hey!" A teenaged boy hollered. He wore a sweat-soaked white tank top, and baggy jeans. He was nothing but skin and bones, and his eyes were about to bug out of his head. He looked more afraid of them than they were of him – and Brittany could guess why. "Don't shoot me! I'm alive!"

Brittany and Amy put their weapons away, but Daryl kept his crossbow trained on the young boy.

"What do you want?" His voice cracked and he appeared frozen with fear. Brittany turned furious eyes on Daryl.

"Would you knock –"

"I'm lookin' for my brother!" Daryl announced in his gruff voice. Brittany turned back to the frightened boy, who didn't really appear to be listening. "He's hurt real bad. You seen –"

"_Ayudeme!_" The boy suddenly screamed.

"Hey!" Brittany exclaimed, picking her knife back up and aiming it at him. She stepped away from Daryl and towards the kid, remembering _exactly _what he was all about. "We aren't going to hurt you –"

"_Ayudeme!_"

"Shut up!" Daryl commanded, stalking closer to him and tightening his grip on his crossbow. His whole body tensed up with anger, and he looked like a lion that was ready to pounce.

"Ayudem-"

Amy tackled him. Her scissors skittered across the alley and landed under a heap of garbage, abandoned and forgotten. Brittany gasped, and Daryl paused in surprise, but Amy pressed her hand over his mouth frantically. "They'll hear you!" She hissed, her eyes wild with fear. "You'll get us all killed!"

The kid kept yelling, his voice muffled now, and Brittany crept forward.

Suddenly, the metal gate burst open from behind them. Two men came barreling down the alley. The larger of the pair, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, kicked Amy off of the kid.

White-hot panic seized Brittany as she watched her best friend getting the crap kicked out of her, and she lunged onto the back of the smaller one. He had a bandana tied around his head, and she let go of one of his shoulders and jammed it over his eyes.

He bucked and thrashed, trying to throw her off. The metal bat he had been clutching clattered to the ground, and he shoved the bandana off of his head. The larger one abandoned Amy and started to pry Brittany off, and Brittany lashed out with her knife. She sliced down his hand, and he jerked back with a scream.

He stumbled back, and at that exact moment, Glenn came skidding into the alley. He spotted Glenn immediately.

"No!" Brittany screamed, her eyes widening in panic. "Run!"

"That's it, Varto! That's the bag!" Screamed the man Brittany was hanging from. She slid off of him as the larger man charged Glenn.

Amy had stood up at some point, and was now sprinting to aid Glenn.

"Leave him alone!" Amy screeched, running head first into the larger man who reminded Brittany of a pit-bull.

Daryl gestured wildly to Brittany. "Watch him!" He commanded, pointing to the teenager. She glanced at the kid, who was still lying in a disoriented heap on the ground.

"But –" She started, and Daryl started to run toward the others.

"Watch him!" He hollered again, and turned his attention to the struggle that occurred at the end of the alley.

Brittany dropped to the ground and pinned the kid's hands behind his back, digging her knee into his shoulders and pressing him against the ground. She frantically looked back up.

Daryl smoked the larger one in the face with his crossbow, knocking him from Amy. Amy lunged for the smaller one, latching onto his back and pulling him off of Glenn. Glenn groaned and held a shaking hand up to his bleeding nose, then tried to snatch the bag up.

The big man recovered and threw the black bag over his shoulder before Glenn could. In the same motion, he grabbed ahold of Glenn's arm and used him for cover as he backed out of the alley. Daryl had his crossbow aimed at the pair, but was helpless to get a clear shot without hitting Glenn...

Meanwhile, the smaller man had picked up Amy. He threw her over his shoulder and turned to run after his companion. Panic laced through Brittany, and she almost forgot to hold down the teenager. She threw herself back down at the last second.

"Daryl!" She screamed. She couldn't be sure that Daryl would help Amy; they barely knew each other, and what Daryl did know of Amy she was sure he didn't like.

Daryl tore his gaze from the man carrying Glenn away, and turned to look at Brittany. Seeing the panic in her eyes, he cursed under his breath and turned back around.

He focused on the smaller man who was carrying Amy over his shoulder now, and sent a bolt flying into his leg – the only area of his back that Amy wasn't covering.

The man screamed and nearly dropped her, but managed to hold on.

"Let go of me!" Amy screeched. "Let go of me! I swear to god, I'll rip off your dick! I'll tear it into strips and feed it to walkers! I'll string you up by it and cut –" the guy shook her roughly, causing his shoulder to dig into her stomach. She dry heaved and abruptly shut up.

Daryl charged forward, but came up short when a walker got in his way. He swiped for a knife from his belt and stabbed it in the head, and a wave of dread crashed against Brittany.

"No!" She screamed when she saw a car roll up outside the alley. "Stop them!"

The kid jerked up when he saw the car, too, trying to throw Brittany off. She shoved him to the ground as hard as he could, and took grim satisfaction at the feeling of his cheek colliding with the cement.

Daryl lunged for the exit, but was forced to swing the gate shut before anymore walkers could stagger their way into the alley.

"No!" She screamed again. "Amy!"

A loud ringing pierced through her ears as she watched Amy struggle against her captors. She couldn't hear anything else, and it was like she was watching it in slow motion. Tears streaked Amy's face, and her bright blue eyes were wild with fright. She looked up at the last second - just before they shoved her into the car, and their eyes locked.

Brittany has never known such fear. She felt like they were stealing a part of her, and in that moment, she knew nothing but panic, and the sound of her heart beating in her ears...

Ga-Gunk...

Ga-Gunk...

Ga-Gunk...

Time sped up again, and the ringing dimmed to a mild buzz. She blinked and pushed down on the teenager before he could slip away.

"Get back here, you sumbitches!" Daryl bellowed, smacking the fence and causing the whole thing to quiver violently.

Brittany grunted in fury as she realized what just happened. One, the squirming kid under her knee, and the developing sunburn on her face told her that this was _very _real.

Two, they lost the bag of guns.

And three, Glenn had been taken… and so had Amy.

* * *

**_And the verdict iiisss? _**

**_Did Daryl's comment piss you off like it did Amy? I almost didn't put it in, but then I was like Lindsay, no... It needs to happen. Besides, I didn't let him just get away with it. Amy stepped up. (Was there ever any doubt?)_**

**_Please don't hate me *covers face*... I promise Daryl will soften up! But to keep it realistic, there had to be a reason for you guys to need to warm up to him again._**

**_I'm starting to think I should change the rating on this thing... _**


End file.
